


Christmas Comes Twice a Year

by casual_distance



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Divergent, Craft Fair, Fanart, First Kiss, Human Castiel, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 09:59:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4344125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casual_distance/pseuds/casual_distance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Christmas Fair in July is an abomination and the fact that Sam and Cas want to go is <i>treason</i> as far as Dean is concerned.  Still, Dean finds himself pulling off the road into the dirt parking lot, scowling as he thinks that Sam and Cas had better appreciate this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Comes Twice a Year

**Author's Note:**

  * For [casfallsinlove](https://archiveofourown.org/users/casfallsinlove/gifts).



> From [this festive AUs post](http://casfallsinlove.tumblr.com/post/104095832048) by [casfallsinlove](http://casfallsinlove.tumblr.com), who was kind enough to let me write it :)
> 
>   * cas dragging dean to a christmas craft fair only dean gets really into the tree topper stall and laughs and laughs as he makes an angel with a tan coat and glittery blue tie and little brown strands of wool for hair
> 


Out of everything that has come from Dean’s devotion to family, this probably tops it all. Especially if Dean lists the absurd. The only saving grace to the fact that Dean has been dragged to a Christmas themed craft fair _in July_ by Sam and Cas is that the first booth he’d spotted had been a beer booth. Granted the beers are bizarre flavors like fig and caramel, or chocolate caramel with apricot, or red apple and honey, but still- beer is beer, even if Dean has to settle for one that’s chocolate cinnamon flavored. 

Scowling, Dean makes his way into the fair and finds himself walking through tinsel-and-holly-decorated booths manned by Santa-hat-wearing crazies who smile as if they’ve been infected with the holiday spirit. In fucking _July_. (And there’s a thought. Would the EMF meter pick up on holiday spirit? Is holiday spirit sickness a thing? Dean kinda wishes he’d brought salt or something with him, but at $10 just to get in the damn place, Dean’s not going back for it.)

Sam disappears the second they walk through the gates, but Cas sticks near Dean, only leaving Dean’s side to check out the occasional booth. They wander through the aisles of stalls until Cas stops at a booth selling fruit spreads and honeys that Dean suspects are like the beer. Cas is fascinated though, asking the teenage girl manning the booth about each jar. Dean walks a little further so he can lean up against the side of a building that’s sitting between a booth selling obnoxiously colored candles and an arts and crafts booth.

He drinks his beer and watches the crowd lazily, eyes eventually wandering back to Cas where he leans over the table listening intently as the girl explains something with wide hand gestures. She’s wearing a red tank top with a fuzzy snowman on it and jingle bell earrings, but she’s also smiling cheerfully at Cas, so Dean tries to be generous and not think it looks silly.

“Hey, Dad,” a voice says at his elbow. Dean turns at the hand on his arm to find the lady in charge of the crafts tugging him toward a table.

“Oh. No, I’m not-” 

“We’re making tree toppers,” she explains over him as she pushes him into a chair that’s too small for him. She’s short, with grey hair twisted into fuzzy curls and a Santa hat hanging lopsided on her head. She talks just fast enough that Dean has to pay attention to understand her. She bustles toward a small table set off to the side and stacked with piles of paper. She hands him a cutout of a gingerbread style figure and pushes a tray of fabric clothing toward him. Dean tries to hand it back to her.

“I’m not here for crafts. I’m not a dad.”

She pushes it back. “Anyone can make a craft. Here’s the clothing. Down further are crinkle strips for hair. Gemstones, glitter, tissue paper. Markers and crayons if you want to write or draw on it. When you’re all done, come to me and we’ll attach the string so you can put it on the tree.”

Dean tries to hand it back again. “I don’t have a Christmas tree- it’s _July_ \- and I wouldn’t know what to make anyway.”

She artfully dodges his hand. As she turns away to help an actual parent with an actual child, she orders, “So hang it up in a window. Make an angel.”

Dean pauses. He glances back up the booths where Cas is now the one gesturing to the girl as she continues to smile widely at him. He has several jars lined up in front of him on the table.

“An angel, huh?” Dean leans forward and digs through the clothing, pleased to find a cream colored piece that he thinks he can cut into a jacket.

Dean’s just glued down a strip of paper cut to look like a tie when he hears someone ask, “What’s that supposed to be?”

Dean glances over to see a little girl with blond pigtails sitting on her feet in a chair, bracing herself on her arms over the table, and leaning toward him. Her own half-decorated figure sits forgotten on the table in front of her.

“It’s an angel,” he says.

“Angels wear robes.” She makes a face at him.

“Not this one,” Dean answers. “He’s my friend and he wears a suit.” 

She frowns down at the paper figure in front of him. “You’re friends with an angel?”

“Sure am. Well, was. He’s not an angel anymore.”

She nods as if that makes sense and scoots further up the table to lean closer to him. “Are you gonna give him hair?”

“Sure am.”

“What color is his hair? Mine’s yellow.”

Dean grins at her. “He’s got brown hair.”

She nods and hops down, heading toward the middle of the table and comes back with a handful of thin paper strips that are crinkled and curling. She drops them on the table in front of him.

“You gotta put glue here.” She touches the top of the figure’s head. 

Dean nods in agreement and grabs a bottle of glue. He squeezes out a line and she pushes a wad of the paper hair into it, laughing as glue squishes out between strips of paper. She rubs her fingers against the tabletop to get rid of the mess.

“What’s next?” Dean asks, tilting his angel toward her.

She purses her lips in consideration. “Eyes?”

“He’s got blue eyes.”

She nods once, a sharp up-and-down of determination that has Dean laughing to himself as she scurries back down the table. She returns with two tiny rhinestones that Dean carefully glues onto the angel’s face.

“Why’s he wearing that anyway?” she asks as she watches.

“Dunno. That’s just what he wore.” Dean reaches out and grabs the tray closest to him, the one with pre-cut angel wings. “Hey, what color do you think his wings should be?”

She gives him a look. “White, a’course!” She digs through the pile of shapes and pulls a white set of wings out triumphantly. Dean gives her a rueful smile and turns his paper angel over to glue the wings to its back.

He flips it back over and holds it up for her inspection. She makes a humming noise and leans across the table to push at the hair again. “Why isn’t he an angel anymore?”

Dean frowns down at the little figure. “It’s a long story,” he hedges.

She nods. “My mom said that sometimes people stop being one thing an’ have to start being something else.”

“Did she?” Dean asks, glancing over at her. 

She nods again. “My dad use’ to be a banker, but now he’s something else. What’s your friend?”

“He’s, ah, he’s definitely something else.”

She frowns, clearly not liking his answer. “Is he nice?”

Dean laughs. “He’s very nice.”

“Was he a good angel?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Did he like being an angel?”

“I don’t know. I think so.”

“My dad says he likes not being a banker anymore.”

“Being a banker isn’t any fun,” Dean agrees.

She nods and leans forward, lowering her voice to a whisper. “He’s more fun now. We get to do things together.”

Dean smiles at her even as his chest aches. “I’m sure he enjoys doing things with you.”

She smiles and nods again, blond pigtails bouncing with the movement. They look up when the craft lady appears beside them. 

“You ready to hang your craft?” she asks Dean, already reaching down to take it from him. She pulls a loop of yarn from her apron pocket and tapes it to the back of the angel’s head before handing it back to him. “There! Now he’s an ornament. Good job, Dad!”

“I’m not-”

“Dean!”

Dean turns to see Sam barreling down the walkway toward him, bags dangling off his arm, banging up and down against his leg. Dean turns to the little girl, who is watching Sam with a frown, and grins at her.

“Hey, thanks for your help on my friend here. I’ve gotta go.”

She smiles widely. “Bye! Tell your angel friend I said hi.”

Dean laughs and stands. He tucks the figure into the pocket on the inside of his jacket. “I will.”

She turns back to the craft table where she picks up her own figure and tips her head in consideration. Dean watches her pull a pair of bright pink wings from the container and grins at the back of her head. He turns to raise his eyebrows in question at Sam when he finally reaches Dean.

“Dean, I found a lead on a case. We need to head into town.”

Dean nods and turns around, startling when he sees Cas standing next to him, his own bag hanging heavily from his hand.

“Did you get enough fruit spreads there, Cas?” Dean asks.

Cas smiles at him, wide and gummy, and Dean can’t help grinning back.

At the Impala, Dean slides into the driver’s seat and sneaks a look through the back window at Sam and Cas. They’re busy showing each other their purchases before they drop them in the trunk, so Dean slides the paper angel from his jacket pocket and hangs it over the rear view mirror. 

When they get in the car finally, Cas doesn’t say anything, but Sam laughs and flicks it with his finger, setting it spinning back and forth on its string.

At the motel, Sam jumps out to book them a room. Cas waits until Sam disappears into the office before sliding out from the back seat and into the front. Dean watches as Cas reaches up to touch the paper angel’s leg. 

He sighs and says, “I do miss being an angel, sometimes.”

Dean looks over at him.

“Usually when you or Sam are hurt.” Cas pauses. “Or when I’m hurt.” He gives a wry smile and taps the leg, sending the figure spinning again. He folds his hands into his lap and looks out the windshield. “I don’t think I was a very good angel, but I’m glad that you thought so. I’m glad I could help you and Sam, even if I-”

“Hey, now. None of that,” Dean interrupts.

Cas looks over at him, and Dean shakes his head. “I didn’t know you were listening.”

“Would you have answered her differently?”

“No, Cas, of course not. I just didn’t realize…” Dean trails off and glances away from Cas toward the motel lobby. He can see Sam through the doors, leaning over the counter, clearly chatting up the woman at the front desk. She’s matching his lean, smiling shyly and looking up at him through her eyelashes.

He turns back to Cas. “You gave up a lot when you became human,” Dean tries again.

Cas looks at him. Dean swallows hard. It’s the same searching look Cas has turned on him since they met, since he realized that Dean didn’t believe he was worth saving. It’s the look that’s usually followed by something Dean doesn’t want said out loud that Cas says anyway. It’s the look that is followed by Cas telling Dean he’s wrong.

Still, Dean is surprised when Cas says, “I got more than I gave up.”

He raises his eyebrows at Cas. “Like what? From where I’m sitting you traded superpowers for dingy motel rooms.”

Cas smiles at him, but it’s shy, tentative. He opens his mouth, hesitates, then says, “I got you.”

Dean gapes at him. He thinks to deny that he’s worth all that, but Cas’s face is open and hopeful- until Dean takes too long to respond. The smile drops from Cas’s face and he turns away and adds, voice thick, “And Sam, of course. You are both great-”

Dean reaches out and grabs the collar of Cas’s shirt, tugging Cas toward him. Cas turns, eyes going wide as Dean presses his mouth to Cas’s. There’s a beat and then Cas is kissing him back, curling a hand around his neck. Cas slides across the seat to press his body against Dean’s.

They kiss until they need to break apart to breathe. Cas holds onto him still and Dean can’t help smiling. He pulls Cas into another kiss and thinks _Merry Christmas to me_.

**Author's Note:**

> If you'd like to make your own tree topper, I put together a printable paper Cas. :) 
> 
> There's two versions: a print-and-cut version for people who like their crafts simple and a cut-and-glue version for people like me who are a little more excitable with their crafts. Both versions can be [downloaded here](https://goo.gl/qFMimI). If you make one, I'd love to see it! Please, please, _please_ share it with me on [tumblr](http://casualstories.tumblr.com/)!
> 
>   
>    
> 


End file.
